


The Strange Man in the Long Coat

by NikkiJustTalk



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-27
Updated: 2012-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-04 10:17:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikkiJustTalk/pseuds/NikkiJustTalk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The strange man in the long coat was back again. Always there. Watching the man at the grave. Never talking. Just watching.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Strange Man in the Long Coat

The strange man in the long coat was here again. I seem to have seen him everywhere lately, in Sunday sessions, in the graveyard, even in the bell tower once, but I've never spoken to him. Not until today anyway.

Extending a pale, thin hand, the man said 'Mycroft Holmes, hi' with a short smile.

'Reverend James. How can I help you?' I answered

For a while, he just stood there in the doorway of the church, gazing out at something in the distance.

Suddenly he walked into the graveyard slightly, gesturing for me to follow him with his hand, never drawing his eyes away and not stopping until we stood awkwardly behind a cluster of trees at the edge of the cemetery.

'Mr Holmes, what on earth…'

'How often does he visit?' The curly haired man still refused to look at me, so instead I followed his gaze until I found the shorter man, crouched beside a headstone, unshaven and unkempt, grey hair ruffled by the wind and he appeared to be talking ten to the dozen at the silent grave.

John, his name was, John Watson.

'He used to come once a day, every day, but ever since he had to be dragged away kicking and screaming by some inspector bloke, he only visits twice a week now for the last two years. He just sits there, talking and talking about ordinary mundane things. Sometimes he meets a tall man with an umbrella there, sometimes he brings an old woman with him, but he always comes.'

'Mycroft' turned to look at me, eyes unreadable but mouth slack in shock.

'Amazing the things people do for love, isn't it?…Do you know him?'

He turned away again and whispered 'Yeah…something like that'. He gazed at him for a few moments more before abruptly turning away, whipping out his phone and speed texting the words 'Its time. SH'.

Then he ran into the road and hailed a cab, shouting '221B Baker Street, and hurry!'

I don't know what happened to that man, but I never saw him or John Watson again. The gravestone was taken away, the flowers that used to surround it were brought into the church and a blue box found lying at the base of the headstone was deposited in lost and found for the remainder of its days.

I opened it one time, just out of curiosity, and found in it a violin bow, a dead mobile phone and a note that read the words 'Please God let him live'.


End file.
